


Night Before Dawn

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Live Free or Die Hard (2007)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-23
Updated: 2007-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-25 07:48:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1639757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five nights of John McClane.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Before Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> A great big thanks to the gang at #yuletide, you guys were the best, most cracked-out company I had in a while. I blame you! I blame you hard!   
>  But seriously, snagging this pinch-hit was amazing. The story came to me almost full-blown the moment I saw the name of John McClane.
> 
> Written for Jedi Buttercup

 

 

 **1970**  
  
After the death of his father, John didn't sleep for a week. He spent his nights in the school chapel, yelling at God. He did it so much that his voice failed and the teachers called him out for giving them lip, when he couldn't say a word in class. It was fine, anyway, he didn't want them to know. They would just make him go home.  
  
John's mother didn't take it very well: the death, unexpected as it was, had come at a terrible time. Her medication had had to be readjusted and most of the time she just didn't care enough to take the pills. John could only do so much, but he wouldn't watch his mother fade away. In a lot of ways it was worse than a cop shot on duty, there was no one to blame and no reason for it. She just didn't want to live.  
  
He couldn't imagine it.  
  
"What are you doing here, Mr. McClane?"  
  
John jumped to his feet. There were two exits behind him, if he had to run. "Father Greer, I was just-"  
  
The Father smiled. "It's okay, I won't throw you out on a night like this."  
  
A couple of scenarios occurred to John, the least problematic of which was the Father wanting to talk about John's feelings. But there were other possibilities, and John wasn't sure he could take the man in a hand-to-hand scuffle. He was way too fucking fit for a priest, anyway. Did one of God's special commandments for priests say they had to work out regularly?  
  
"I'll just leave," John said, inching toward the left.  
  
Father Greer didn't move, only watched John with curiosity written all over him. "I knew your father. He was a good man."  
  
"Not good enough," John said, "or he wouldn't have got himself fucking shot."  
  
"Sometimes," the Father said, "we're hard pressed to find reason in the madness around us, but it's all in what we make of the things we're given."  
  
"No one's giving me shit, that's for sure."  
  
John crossed his arms. Greer made him angry, and he wanted to shut the guy up with a well-placed punch to the cliché-spouting mouth. Knock a few teeth out. Maybe that way, the Father wouldn't look at him with so much pity in his eyes - like John was some kind of injured animal.  
  
"You can stay here, if you want. I would just like to call your mother to make sure she doesn't worry."  
  
"Fat chance."  
  
Father Greer still smiled, like the world was his big stupid happy place. "Make sure you watch the sunrise, it's beautiful from the East tower window."  
  
John grumbled, but figured he was getting out of this with not so much as a detention. It was best to leave it at that.  
  
 **1976**  
  
With his arm around Terrence and a beer in his hand, John didn't feel like going back to base any time soon. They still had thirteen hours to burn until they'd be deployed, and who knew which of them would bite it this time? The commies were getting cocky after Saigon, and the US military was stretched thin. Their morale was stretched even thinner.  
  
He pulled Terrence into a side alley and kissed him hard. Terrence pushed him back against the wall. The beer dropped out of sight, and out of mind.  
  
"Don't do that."  
  
John grinned. "Say that like you mean it, Sarge."  
  
Terrence licked at John's neck - not the kind of refusal that John knew to take seriously. Terrence whispered into his ear, and the tone of his voice made John shudder with anticipation. "Don't do that in public. You know what happens to people like us."  
  
"They have really good sex."  
  
Terrence sighed, still clinging to John like that time in the Ukraine. "Yes, which is why I still put up with you."  
  
"Aww, you love me."  
  
Terrence huffed. "As a matter of fact, I most likely do."  
  
John rolled his eyes. "How romantic."  
  
"You should have told me you liked romance, I would have gotten you flowers." Terrence was this close to lose his shit laughing.  
  
"Yeah, for the fucking funeral." John didn't like to be laughed at, and sometimes he thought maybe Terrence considered him some kind of pet.  
  
"Oh no, remember? You promised you'd live forever."  
  
John got really cold all of a sudden, probably the beer losing some of its punch. "I will. Death can go fuck itself." He leaned against the wall now, letting it take some of the weight.  
  
Terrence looked at him, and for once John could feel how much difference two years made. "C'mon, let's do something really stupid, like get a tattoo."  
  
John blinked. "Yeah," he said, "Yeah, I don't feel like bed anyway."  
  
 **1991  
**  
"Daddy?"  
  
John cursed, pressing the towel into his stomach to stop the bleeding. His partner hadn't been so lucky - his brain matter and blood was all over the south wall of this very neat upscale apartment that some dipshit had used for a methlab. The explosion had shredded the furniture and anyone who happened to be standing in the way, like two cops just doing their job.  
  
"Lucy, baby, can you put Mommy on the phone?"  
  
In the background John could hear his son and at least one more kid. They had friends over sometimes, John Jr. more often than Lucy, who was more of a Daddy's girl. It probably didn't help that she liked to kick boys into the balls for pulling her hair or calling her nasty names. John was really proud of his baby, and a smart kid she was, too.  
  
"Mommy's not here. She went to the store."  
  
John frowned. He needed... needed something, but he couldn't fucking remember. "Honey, listen carefully now, okay? Can you do that?"  
  
"Yes, Daddy."  
  
Of course. Good girl. "Go get something to write and hurry."  
  
It took longer than he thought possible. Longer than John could have imagined staying conscious, but Lucy's voice brought him back. "Got it, Daddy. I found my pink pony one."  
  
"Yes," John said, trying not to cough - it would most likely be blood, anyway, and he had a feeling he'd need that. "That's great, baby."  
  
"What do you want me to write?"  
  
John gave her the address, dictated ever number and letter to make sure, and made her read it back to him. Then he felt all fight go out of him. This was as far as his idea got him, now all he wanted was to close his eyes for a second.  
  
"Lucy," he said, "you need to call 911 and give them that address. Tell them Officer John McClane has been involved in a-" he couldn't fucking remember the code, which made him wonder if this was how dying felt like. Things just slipping away until he was empty. "Involved in an explosion and needs urgent assistance."  
  
The scratching of the pen was the only noise for a while and John wondered if he'd stopped breathing. "How do you write urgent, Daddy?"  
  
John laughed. It didn't hurt and that made him worried. "Just like you say it, just like you say it."  
  
Lucy huffed, the way she did when he told her bed time stories she was too old to believe, or told her to clean her room. "U-r-g-e-n-t, right, Daddy?"  
  
"Yes, baby, that's exactly right." His hands were really cold.  
  
"Kay, Daddy."  
  
"That's it, honey. Now, when I hang up, you have to call 911 and tell them what you just wrote down. Can you do that?"  
  
"Yes, of course."  
  
He could almost see her face, the little crinkle in her brow when she thought he was teasing her. "That's great, really great. I love you, Luce."  
  
"I love you to, Daddy." She sounded, suddenly, on the verge of tears. "Can I ask you something?"  
  
"Sure, you can ask me anything."  
  
She took a deep, shaky breath. "Are you going to die?"  
  
John laughed, coughed, whatever - it felt like something ripped inside of him. "No, baby. I'm not going to die."  
  
"Not ever?"  
  
How had he ended up with his face on the carpet? "Not ever, baby, I promise."  
  
"Good," she said, and the phone line went dead.  
  
 **2007**  
  
Matt paced the small but comfortable apartment. It was kind of amazing that he'd been here more often now, than he had when they were still dating. Perhaps Lucy and him just made better friends than lovers. After two months, he still tried to wrap his brain around that particular concept, because Lucy insisted on it despite the evidence. That had been some fantastic sex, the best he'd ever had with a woman, and pretty close to his all time favorite.  
  
"He's going to kill me," Matt said. He really wanted to share the misery.  
  
Lucy rolled her eyes. "He won't kill you, he loves you."  
  
Now it was Matt's turn to roll his eyes. "Oh yeah? The John McClane _I_ know is going to come through that door and shoot me in the head for breaking his daughter's heart."  
  
That made her snort, and Matt couldn't fight the little pang of want and need that curled in his chest. "I broke up with you, remember? My heart's in perfect working order."  
  
Oh, he remembered. They'd been talking about his job, some security detail, and Matt had mentioned how he found a leak by imagining John McClane breaking into the system. It had been a funny story, or so he thought, but Lucy hadn't laughed. She'd folded her napkin in that precise way that always spelled trouble, looked him in the eyes and said: "I want to break up."  
  
She'd never told him her reasons, only something about the way he'd looked. Or hadn't looked at her. Something. After those fateful words, his memory had gone a little hazy with the help of beer and Batman DVDs.  
  
"I still don't see why we have to tell him."  
  
"He's a cop, who's also made a habit of stalking me and my boyfriends in the past. Believe me, this is so much more painless - like pulling off a band aid."  
  
"Yeah," Matt said, his fingers twisting into odd shapes, "I'd rather let it grow out, or fall off in the shower, if it's all the same to you."  
  
She sighed and sat down opposite him. "Matt, look at me." It was order, and as such, he complied without question. When a McClane gave you an order in that voice, you disobeyed it only on the pain of death.  
  
"Sometimes... sometimes I wish you could see yourself when you talk about him. Even when you're terrified - it's like you fucking glow."  
  
"Lucy, what the hell are-"  
  
She glared. He shut up and prepared to listen to something he knew he wouldn't like to hear. "I would have liked, I think... I would have liked for you to look at me like that, at least once. But when John's in the room, there's no space for anyone else." She looked at her hands. "And don't get me wrong, if I thought you were using me, if I thought either of you were doing it on purpose, I would have stapled your balls to the nearest wall."  
  
Matt tried not to imagine it, but it was so very easy. In a lot of ways, Lucy McClane was her father's daughter. She laughed, and the sound made her seem frail and tiny - it was a deceptive sound, deadly if you let yourself believe it. Lucy didn't need anyone to safe her - unless it was her Dad and she was being kidnapped by psychopaths.  
  
"You're in love with him and don't even know it."  
  
"I'm what?" He hadn't even thought about it. He hadn't. Not even...  
  
"And you know what the funniest thing is?" This time to break in her voice was real, but Matt knew better than to try and comfort her. "I'm pretty damn sure it's mutual."  
  
Of all the things to say, he could only think of: "Really?"  
  
The little thread of hope in his voice didn't escape his notice. Nor did it escape Lucy. Before she could say anything, her phone rang and she left the room.  
  
Matt stared at the wall for a while, waiting. For lightning to strike him, maybe, or the world to make sense again like it did before he met the McClanes. He thought about John stumbling through rubble, dragging himself through his own blood, killing helicopters with cars and fighting jet planes with his bare hands. He thought about John's smile and the way he talked about Lucy, the way his voice could make something in Matt's belly turn to mush. The way Matt had felt his world crumble for a moment after John had shot himself and Matt thought he was maybe, possibly dead.  
  
When Lucy came back in, Matt had resigned himself to his fate. "So, how do you think I should do this? I'm no longer dating your daughter, but I kind of dig you? That's going to go over well. Now he's definitely going to kill me."  
  
Matt was this close to babbling, but Lucy's amused expression stopped him. She laughed again, and now she was all steel and McClane again. "You're safe, for now. He can't make it, some kind of big bust going down with his SWAT. It's their first time and he wants to be there, in case they mess up." To safe their asses, if it came down to it. John treated his trainees like his kids. Or maybe he'd always treated his kids like trainees. It would explain so much.  
  
"So, no death here, tonight. But I made him invite you for Christmas, just the three of us."  
  
Matt looked at her, and said, "I hate you," meaning all the things he'd never gotten around to telling her, and all the things he would share with his two McClanes from now on. The idea of a future like that made him dizzy. There was a silly smile on his face he couldn't quite fight.  
  
 **2010**  
  
"Time to bring him in, McClane." Matt's disembodied voice betrayed no trace of digital communication. It was like Matt was right there, whispering words from somewhere right next to his ear. It was a bit disconcerting, and not entirely unpleasant.  
  
John smiled at a passing waitress. An appreciative glance at her ass covered his next sentence from view - if Kim noticed anything out of the ordinary, he'd bolt so fast, John would only catch the dust cloud. The only reason Kin was still wanted in five countries with a bounty on his head the size of John's retirement plan and not already in jail, was that Kim was extremely paranoid. At the merest hint of trouble, he had an army of bodyguards descend on him that formed an impenetrable shell of bodies. Unless someone were to go in with heavy artillery, Kim had it all worked out.  
  
He just hadn't expected John McClane, but then, who did?  
  
"Hey, are you having your James Bond fantasy again?" The smile in Matt's voice was full-blown, warm and wicked.  
  
John turned around, pretending to look for someone. "If I'm not mistaken, that's your fantasy, and it involves a lot fewer clothes."  
  
Matt coughed, covering a somewhat unmanly giggle. "Just do your job so we can go home."  
  
"Yeah, yeah," John said, smiling as well, "we'll be home by eight."  
  
"Try not to die."  
  
John bit his lip as he turned back to his job. Kim was still there, talking to a very pretty, very young hostess. John wondered if that sultry look was in her job description. It reminded him of the way Matt sometimes looked at night, inviting and hungry.  
  
He tapped his wristband and the earplug went dead, although Matt could still hear him. Somehow. Matt had explained it to him, but at the time John had been kind of distracted. Matt talked about tech in bed sometimes, and it was ridiculous how hot it made John when he did.  
  
"We all have to die," John said, his mouth covered by his hand. "Just not today."  
  
On the other end of the transmitter Matt was sitting, hearing the promise in John's voice. Going home, together. After the job was done.  
  
It made them those guys.


End file.
